The Chrysanthemum and the Lotus
by Loreyulia
Summary: Yu Kanda did not have anger issues! But maybe it wouldn't hurt to find a way, to vent all of his pent up frustration... a story in which Kanda meets the swordsman known as Kiku Honda. A HetaliaXD.Gray-man crossover, and old Christmas Gift fic for a friend.


Disclaimer: I've written too many stories for either fandom, making it sadly apparent that I own nothing... why must I torture myself with these awful disclaimers?!

A/N: **This story is an old Christmas gift that I wrote for my best friend Howl'sGirl a couple years ago, and now I'm finally getting around to posting it here for every one else to read (she already got to decipher my bad hand writing, and read it herself). This fic will be set in modern day Japan, Kiku is still a nation, but Kanda doesn't know it. If the title doesn't make sense, I shall explain now: Kiku if I remember right, means Chrysanthemum in Japanese, and the lotus is for Kanda because of the stuff regarding him in the Manga. Please, enjoy the story. :) **

**The Chrysanthemum and the Lotus **

Immense pain shot through my hand as it made solid contact with the edge of some punk's teeth, splitting the skin between my first two knuckles, easily. Giving only a small grimace to betray my pain, I pulled my fist back, only to smash it into the man's nose.

Fountains of bright red spurted out, and onto my hand, looking distinctly like the juice of a pomegranate staining a crisp white shirt. The thought struck me oddly, causing me to chuckle darkly, at the absurdity. Fear shone brightly in my victims eyes, his panic-stricken cries doing nothing, but irritating me further.

"I'm sorry man," he cringed, tears streaming from his eyes to mix with snot, and blood. "I didn't mean to hit on ya', you just looked like a girl from behind! Please, spare me!" Growling fiercely, I pulled my fist back to strike again, but stopped myself halfway from knocking out the fuckers teeth.

"Tch, if you're gonna' snivel like a pathetic child, then you're not even worth the effort of beating, within an inch of your life." Releasing the whimpering mass of flesh from my vice grip, I shook away the blood from my injured hand, and walked away indifferently.

~O.o.o.O~

"Damn it, Kanda! You really need to do something about your anger issues." My co-worker, and self-proclaimed therapist, Lenalee Lee admonished me. "I mean seriously, this has been like, your fifth fight in just as many months."

"I don't have anger issues..." I mumbled sullenly, wincing as the small Asian girl dabbed at my split skin, with a swab drenched in alcohol. She sent me a disapproving glance, her fingers working quickly on wrapping clean bandages around my injured hand.

"Well, regardless of what you think, my personal opinion is this: you need to find a hobby, preferably some thing that allows you to vent your unnatural wealth of irrational anger..."

"Che, whatever..." Yanking my hand away I stood, stuffing my hands into the pocket of my dark blue hoodie. Though I'd never give Lenalee the satisfaction of knowing I took her advice, I couldn't help but ponder the notion of taking up a hobby, to "vent," as she so irritatingly put it.

"Later," I grumbled, pushing passed her before she could jump down my throat, for not thanking her properly.

~O.o.o.O~

The preternatural stillness around me sent chills down my spine, as I faced the front of a desolate building. Sucking in a reassuring breath, I studied the structure more intently. A wide wrap-around porch surrounded the entire building, the color of it rich, and honey toned; most likely fashioned from bamboo.

A chill mist hung around the pine trees, clinging to every thing it touched, and dampening it in turn. The crunch of my feet shifting against dry, and fallen pine needles, the only sound that shattered the still air. The atmosphere made me feel nervous, and leery, and the thought of that alone caused me to grow irritated with myself.

"Tch, I'm acting like such a pussy." I grumbled darkly, pushing some of the dampened fringe of my bangs from my face. So I took a few steps forward, and then ten more, before I was faced with the creamy color of Shoji screen doors.

Before I could reach a hand out to pull on the rope connected to the doorbell, a calm voice floated from within the Dojo. "Come in." So I pushed aside my unrealistic uneasiness, and slid open the Shoji door. Dark wood expanded from the raised entrance, to the very back; and sitting upon a tatami mat, was a small Japanese man.

Slipping off my dirty vans at the entrance, I then placed a cautious step upon the raised flooring, and then another. Making my way warily towards the kneeling man, I felt my long hair swish against my skin with every step I took. Once I was standing before him, I languidly fell to my knees, and then prostrated myself before him in a sign of humility.

"What brings you here?" The man's voice was soft, and velvety smooth. It reminded me of water falling over crystalline rocks.

"I am seeking a Sensei, for I wish to learn the art of swordplay to cleanse my mind, and my spirit." It felt degrading, bowing before a man I had no respect for, and begging like a stray dog for a scrap of meat. But this Dojo was the only one I could find within the immediate area, and a dog should never bite the hand that feeds him.

"I see. Rise, and let me take a good look at you, to deem you worthy of my tutelage." His voice was still calm, and serene, seeming almost ancient in its timbre. I righted myself, hands folded in my lap, making a mirror image of the other.

He studied me with his dull brown eyes, so in turn I studied him. His hair was black as ink, even darker then my own hair which had tints of blue when hit with the right lighting. It fell in a choppy mess over his forehead, and to the sides of his face; the front being longer then the back. The man had moon pale skin, it being accentuated even further by the deep blue Kimono with silver cranes, that he chose to wear.

His face was young, and boyish, making him seem like nothing more then a boy fresh out of high school. It was all in his eyes though, deep and ancient, almost all knowing; that made me feel like this man was older than he seemed. A shiver ran down my spine at the thought, and the feeling that this man was other worldly.

"I suppose you'll do." He said, after a while of silence, and contemplation. So he stood, unsheathing a sword tied loosely by a belt and scabbard, around his slim hips. "A swordsman respects his blade, as if it were his lover. For a blade is beautiful, but deadly." He slashed his sword vertically, and the sight stole my breath away. The blade flashed in an arc of silver beauty, like a crescent of the moon falling down, and gracing the Earth with its presence.

"You shall handle your blade with the utmost care, and devotion; as if you were caressing the petals of a delicate flower, soft and slow." Another arcing flash of crystalline beauty, mixed with a tinge of promises most deadly.

His feet moved in tandem with his arms, the sword just a mere extension of the flesh, and bone that made up the hands wielding the handle. It seemed as if he were dancing, his partner visible to only him. The sight was hypnotizing, and I found that I couldn't bring myself to look away.

"By the time we are finished, moving your blade shall be as easy as existing." Coming to a stop, he sheathed his weapon in one fluid movement, and bowed reverently. "If you are not prepared to do every thing I say without question, then I advise you to leave right now, and never look back."

"Tch," I scoffed, rising to my feet, to find that I was quite taller then the other man. "If you think that's going to scare me away, then you have another thing coming to ya'!"

He merely smiled, and softly said, "Good."

~O.o.o.O~

Kiku Honda was my Sensei's name, and I quickly discovered he was a master at his craft. He made every thing he did look like mere child's play, when in reality I learned it was any thing but. Every day, Sensei had me come every _god damned_ day, to the Dojo to practice. I contemplated a few times to tell him to shove it, but I held my tongue; rule #1, no one disobeys their Sensei.

"Arms in tighter, feet more apart." Sensei's monotone voice instructed me again, so I positioned my body as told. He circled me for a few moments, before nodding his approval. "Good, now begin." Taking a deep breath, I emptied my mind, focusing on nothing but the blade in my hand, and how it wanted me to move.

I took a step forward, swinging the blade down, stopping it mere inches from the ground, and sweeping it back up as I took another step. It was an exercise in control, for one had to be in control of their body, and mind before becoming one with their blade. I timed my breathing with every stroke, so the movement of such a basic function could not hinder my precision.

"Good, now start side stepping, Imagine you are being fenced off by a far more skilled opponent; show me what you would do." Scenarios played quickly through my mind, how best and efficiently I could overcome a stronger foe. I took a step back, and to the side, slashing my blade downward; but at the last moment I chose to feint, and twisted my arm so I was slashing horizontally.

I cut the practice dummy clean in half. Panting heavily at the exertion, I heard Sensei slowly clapping, and the sound brought me great satisfaction. Though I have only been training under him for a few months, I knew I had begun making great progress.

"We are done for today, Kanda-san." The smaller Japanese man turned from me, and stared wistfully out the nearby window. Setting my sword in its proper place, I turned to study my Master's profile. His eyes were so far away, he looked so surreal, almost as if he didn't truly belong here. Was that normal? To think such things about an ordinary man? What made him seem so other worldly, I wondered...

"Master?" I let the question just settle there, hoping he would deign it with a response. He didn't stir for a while, just merely continued his gazing. The fact that I was being ignored, was beginning to piss me off...

"Do you ever feel like the world no longer needs you? That even though you've spent so much time teaching the people of this Nation every thing, they no longer listen to your advice? I used to be great, but now... all I can do is look fondly on the past, and trust in the future."

His words were cryptic, and they left me with a riddle I did not have the patience to decode. "No master, I'm not sure I know the feeling." He turned to me then, his big brown eyes filled with a crippling amount of sorrow, and regret. Then he smiled, a barely discernable tilt of the lips.

"No, I suppose my problems are far beyond your kind."

~O.o.o.O~

A year had passed under Honda Sensei's instruction, a whole 365 days worth of blisters, aching muscles, and sweat. We were both immensely proud with my progress, however frustrating, and taxing it was to reach this level of mastery. Though there was far more that I needed to learn, master told me that our lessons shall be postponed, for there were important matters he needed to tend to.

So today would be my last day spent with my honored Sensei, for not even he knew how long. As I reached the front of the Dojo, I took a deep breath, and clutched the shittily wrapped package I was holding tighter. Lenalee insisted I buy master a gift, to show him my appreciation for every thing. "Che, 'cuz apparently my amazing progress wasn't gift enough..." I had grumbled in response.

No one started an argument with Lenalee Lee and won, especially if her crazy ass older brother Komui was around. That man was creepily devoted to his younger sister, I always thought with a shudder. Today turned out to be one of those so-hot-you-feel-like-melting-days, so I chose to wear a pair of navy blue flip-flops, dark blue cargo shorts, a thin white tank top, and my favorite pair of shades. My hair was in its usual ponytail, with two strands hanging free to frame both sides of my face.

I kicked my flip-flops off at the doorway, not having to bother to open the shoji door, for it was already wide open in a vain attempt to let in a rare summer breeze. It was a slightly amusing thought, thinking back on the weather last year, how drastically different these summers were. My eyes slowly traveled to the far end of the Dojo, where Kiku usually waited for me upon a tatami mat.

Sure enough, there he was sprawled out, his simple black yukata hanging lazily off one shoulder; and opened wide enough to reveal his moon pale chest. The sight shocked me for the polite, and some what prudish man was very obsessed with propriety, and personal space. My skin grew hot, and my nerves began to tingle for reasons I did not want to think about right now.

"Hello Kanda-san, I'm glad to see you came. It brings me great joy to see my student today." The smaller man sat up, pulling his yukata into a more dignified fashion; his cheeks growing slightly pink, in what I assumed was embarrassment. I just grunted as a response, taking a seat before him upon my own tatami mat.

"What have you brought with you, Kanda-san?" The look of happiness, and curiosity upon my Master's usually blank features was surprising, but kind of cute in a childish way.

"It's nothing to get excited over." I mumbled, but handed the gift over to him. "It's just a token of my thanks..." He better fucking appreciate it too, I thought sullenly.

"Oh, you are very kind Kanda-san, you had no need to get me a gift." Scowling, I just looked away, too embarrassed to watch him open the package. The sound of paper being ripped ever-so slowly greeted my ears, and I frowned at how stupid I felt, for actually taking Lenalee's advice... again.

Finally the ripping sounds ceased, and silence blanketed the air. Dragging my eyes painfully slow over to Sensei's face, I silently tried to gauge his reaction to the simple gift. A look I could not decipher fell across my Master's face. He gently cupped a Chrysanthemum in bloom, intricately crafted from vibrant red glass. The tips, where they curled to reveal the petals undersides, were pure white; as well as the bulbous center.

"It's so lovely." He whispered softly, a small finger gently caressing a twisted petal. He continued to admire it, smiling as if he were enamored by the pointlessly inanimate object. Sure it was rather pretty, but I could not fathom the purpose it could serve, so it was meaningless to me.

"Well, I guess I'm glad that you like it then..." I mumbled softly, trying my best not reveal how glad I really was, that he accepted the gift so easily.

"But why would you get me such a lovely gift Kanda-san, if you don't mind me asking?" My face heated uncomfortably at his unexpected question. I was hoping he'd just accept the damn thing, and then move on.

"'Cuz I was told it was the 'respectable' thing to do, by a very forceful co-worker... any ways, I saw it in an old antique shop, and thought of you; since your name 'Kiku' means 'Chrysanthemum.'" His face seemed to light up, when he heard my ver embarrassing reasoning's.

"Arigatou Kanda-san, I shall treasure this gift forever." He humbly bowed, fingers still idly caressing the smooth, crystalline flower. "Now, I have a gift for you as well, Kanda-san." Kiku stood in one fluid, and graceful movement, taking the gift with him to the small shrine behind us. He set the thing down gently, and then retrieved a long, wooden box.

Curiosity burned within me, as he came back, and sat once again upon his tatami mat. With the utmost care, he presented the plain rectangular box to me, and I accepted it just as carefully. My fingers slowly worked at a golden knot of ropes, that held the box tightly shut.

Pulling the thick chords loose, I proceeded to open the lid slowly, wondering what could lay within the box's secret depths. I stared in awe and wonder, at the beautiful hand-and-a-half sword that lay nestled in a cocoon of black velvet lining. The pure radiant silver, contrasted perfectly with the rich black material; the sight sending a pleasing shiver down my spine.

I then studied the handle, to find it was pure black as well, with a white cross design embellishing the sides; and I was surprised to discover the slightly curved blade, possessed no guard. The thought was dangerous in retrospect, but I only felt a sick sense of satisfaction at the sight. Grasping the hilt, I withdrew the weapon in a reverence only rivaled by one who devotes their entire being to a higher entity.

Standing, I gave the sword a few experimental swings, marveling at how well the thing suited me. Smiling fondly, I looked to my Master, joy blossomed unabashedly across his face. "Do you like it, Kanda-san?"

"Yes Master, I can never express the depths of my gratitude." I managed to respond around the bubble of happiness floating in my chest. I bowed in utmost respect, to the one who taught me the art of the sword.

"Good," he laughed, surprising me with the boyish tones he'd never uttered before. "Well, the only question now is, what are you going to name your blade?"

I thought for a few minutes, staring at the perfection grasped tightly in my fist. My eyes appraised the blade, but also wandered across Kiku's small, delicate frame. Again, he reminded me of some thing far too old to be gracing this place with his presence; like a mountain, that had seen the beginning of time.

A smile touched my lips then, as a name rang through my mind loud, and crystal clear. "Mugen," I murmured the word softly. "I shall name it Mugen, for 'infinity.'"

He dipped his head in acknowledgement, seemingly pleased with my choice as he said, "Mugen, it is a fine name indeed."

~O.o.o.O~

We spent the next few hours drinking tea, and chatting amiably about nothing in particular. Kiku's once shy, and guarded personality melted away so instantaneously, it almost scared me. Thankfully the change made things less awkward between us. Before our reserved, and taciturn natures caused an insurmountable wall between the two of us. Now we chatted like good friends, honestly enjoying one another's company.

"Kanda-san, may you indulge me in one last spar, before I have to go away?" Sensei questioned, tilting his head to the side, looking remarkably like a rather inquisitive school boy.

"Of course Sensei, it would be an honor." We both stood, silently padding our way over to the sparring arena. Drawing Mugen from its sheath, I warily watched him do the same, immediately positioning himself on the defensive. Lifting my sword up slant-wise before my body, I chose my own position of defense, my nerves alight in anticipation.

My left foot scuffled against the worn wood floor, moving in a slow arc, ending behind my body so I could pounce at any given moment. The summer heat settled about us, intensifying the atmosphere, making it almost unbearable. For one fleeting moment, I envisioned Master covered in sweat, face flushed bright, and sickly pink. Gritting my teeth, I banished the unwanted image.

I chastised myself for the vision, attributing its oddity to the summer heat warping my senses, and leaving me as an animal seeking nothing but pleasured escape. We breathed deeply for a span of seconds, and then we struck almost at once; blades coming together in a clash of silver, and scraping metal.

Locked in a stalemate as we were, now it was up to brute strength to break free, and end this duel. I thought that I would have him beat in the category of strength, but his small, and petite stature did well to hide the strength of steel that lie within those wiry arms and legs.

Pulling my lips into a grimace, I gave up on trying to over power the smaller man, instead I twisted my blade free, and followed up with a slash aimed for his legs. He parried it, whipping his blade down fast as lightning, and flipping mine away easily. I glared spitefully at my Master, as a small smile possessed his thin lips, like he was trying to tell me this was mere child's play.

"Graaaaaah!" I screamed, abandoning all pretense of defense, and going completely on the offensive; slashing with a reckless abandon, at any opening I could find. He effortlessly blocked, parried, and evaded every single one of my attempts to best him.

With one last hasty attempt at defeating my opponent, our blades clashed again, bringing us once more into an all-out war for dominance. My arms were beginning to shake, the effort it took to hold my Master back, was taking a heavy toll upon my weary muscles. One last shove was all it took, and my sword went toppling to the ground, sliding away from us.

The momentum of such a blow sent me falling onto my back, with my Master quickly following, to land on top of me. The both of us were panting harshly, sweat pooling, and mixing together in an almost intimate fashion. We layed like that for what seemed like an eternity, our flesh as hot as the sun against one another.

Finally Master lifted himself up on shaky arms, his skin flushed impossibly pink, and his vacant eyes alive, and bright; as they stared down at me with a ferocity I could not fathom. I drank in the sight of his small chest, rising and falling rapidly, sweat rolling down, and dripping onto me due to gravities pull.

What happened next, I would forever attribute to the summer heat, as Kiku's lips descended upon my own; and he kissed me, all teeth, and tongue, and fire. I just let him, in fact I kissed back just as fiercely, and just as much. My fingers instantly gripped the back of those short inky locks, tugging him closer, enjoying the feeling of our bodies meshing together.

"F-fuck, Kiku-san..." I growled when he pulled away, only to bite me harshly on the neck. God damn I was aroused, and even though it was because of a man, I really couldn't bring my self to care. His slick, moist tongue left wet trails as it explored the expanse of my exposed skin. I shut my eyes tightly, when he lapped at my hardened nipples, through the thin fabric of my tank top.

How could anything feel just so damn good? A hand trailed lazily down my body, searing hot finger tips making their way under my flimsy top, burning a path up my abdomen. A nail scraped against my left nipple, sending waves of pleasure undulating through my body; and, most importantly, to my rock hard cock. I was so fucking hard, even my most comfortable pair of cargo shorts, were becoming uncomfortably tight!

"K-kanda-san... w-would you like me to stop?" Hesitance, and fear shone through the haze of lust in Kiku's dark eyes, as he questioned me softly.

"Hell no! If you don't finish what you fucking started, I'll use Mugen to gut you, got it?" I growled in response, tightening my grip in that impossibly soft, and silky hair of his. He winced in pain, but nodded his understanding, before resuming where he had left off.

Soon he had me shirtless, eyes roaming appreciatively across my toned chest, and abs; admiring my muscled arms. "Kanda-san," Kiku practically purred, catching me totally off guard. "Mmmmm, you're so sexy... I can't wait for you to bend me over, and fuck me nice, and rough." I nearly sputtered at my Master's words. That kind of lewd language was natural for me, but hearing him say that kind of kinky shit? Oh, it fucking got me going...

"Good, 'cuz that's exactly what I'm gonna' do."

Hands couldn't move fast enough, as they removed clothes, and explored undiscovered territories. We became a writhing mess of slick skin, desperate mouths, and grinding hips. It was all just wet, and hot, and just so fucking good! Kiku's tongue found my cock, and instantly began lapping at it, the sensation unlike anything I'd ever felt before.

Twisting, and moaning, I couldn't get enough of this intense pleasure! I wanted some thing hotter, ached for some thing tighter around my throbbing dick. "S-shit Kiku-san, let's just get to the good part, before I bust a nut in your mouth..." He pulled away from me, leaving me to slightly regret the loss; but instinctually I knew some thing much better would be coming... if you pardon the terrible pun.

He wiped away the faint line of saliva, and pre-cum that dribbled down his chin with a swipe of his tongue, and smirked when I moaned at the sight. He got down on his hands and knees, backside wiggling at me in a rather tantalizing fashion. I moved behind him, my hands groping perfectly round ass cheeks.

I spanked each cheek harshly, before pulling them apart, and he moaned like a cheap whore. The sight of his puckered hole made me curious, so I wet two fingers in my own saliva, and pressed one in slowly; receiving a pleasured keen of surprise. I worked the finger in, and out slowly, loving the sound of Kiku's raspy voice egging me on. So I added the second finger, scissoring, and stretching the tight ring of muscle so it could accommodate my length.

He began to thrust back to meet my hand, silently begging for some thing bigger, and deeper. Before I indulged him though, there was some thing else I wanted to try. "Oh God, Kanda-san!" A breathless gasp, and silent scream tore from Kiku's lips, when he felt my wet, and warm tongue lapping at his entrance. The fact that I was committing such a dirty act, only served to arouse us further.

I thrust my tongue in and out of his searing hot hole a few times, reveling in the screams of pleasure that met my ears. But now, enough was enough, and I needed my own release desperately. So I spat heavily onto my hands, and stroked my cock with my own saliva for a few moments, losing myself in the feeling. I slowly pushed into that greedy entrance, that ate me up instantly.

There was no waiting, no treating this man like a piece of fragile glass. It was hard, and it was rough; and I knew by our mingled cries of pleasure, and pain, there was no ther way for us to have sex. I pounded relentlessly into my Master, and he arched his back, screaming his release when I grazed some thing deep inside his body.

"Shit..." I groaned, spilling my own seed into his delicious body; and from there, I blacked out.

I awoke with a start, turning to see Kiku laying beside me, a pensive look dominating his countenance. "Master?" I questioned, wanting to know where this left us. I wasn't looking for a relationship, but I wanted our friendship to stay intact.

He turned to look at me, his smile soft, and fleeting. His hands gently cupped my face, and he kissed me sad, and sweet. "You should go Kanda-san," he murmured, as our lips came apart. I nodded my understanding, quickly dressing myself in my discarded clothes.

I picked up Mugen, and held it out to Kiku, wondering if I was allowed to keep such a priceless gift. He shook his head, and said, "Mugen is yours Kanda-san, I hope it serves you well." So I sheathed the deadly blade, and smiled grimly.

"Will I ever see you again, Sensei?" I shot over my shoulder, when I made my way over to the open door.

A tiny smile lifted delicate, kiss bruised lips. "Perhaps..." was all the response he gave. I nodded, and left the place where time seemed to stand still, doubting our paths would ever cross again.

~O.o.o.O~

After that day, I never saw the man known as Kiku Honda again. I waited a few weeks after his departure, idly wondering where he could be. In the darkest parts of the night, all alone in his bed, did he pleasure himself to images of that day, the same as I? Or did the incident just fade away, a dull remembrance of a time, spent regrettably in a student's embrace?

One day I had had enough of these questions, and vague feelings of anger over being used up, and tossed aside; like a piece of plastic wrapping left after consuming a delicious treat. So I visited that isolated Dojo, in the middle of a forgotten forest. When I arrived there, I realized in utter astonishment, that it was gone. Burned, and rendered to ashes. Hardly a trace was left of the place, where I once trained in the ways of the sword, under the tutelage of a man as unattainable as the moon.

So many questions raced through my mind, questions I knew I would never have the answers to. A wry smile cracked my lips, as a dull ache settled in my chest. A throbbing pain caused by the days of aching muscles, blistered hands, and sweat; forever left to become a faded memory. Taking one last look at my desolate surroundings, I murmured softly to the open air, "Sayonara, Kiku-san..."

A year later, I decided to train under a new Sensei, so my skills would not grow rusty from disuse. I found some fool named Teidoll to teach me, though some times I regretted the decision. He was drastically different from the calm, and collected man, who once brought fire into my life. I knew it was better this way... better to let the past, stay in the past, and not destroy the present.

"Yu-kun?" I twitched at the irritating way my Sensei chose to adress me.

"Yes, Sensei?" I replied, trying to control my anger.

"You never told me, but how did you come about learning the ways of the sword?" I smiled then small, and sad as I recalled the stoic face, and blank stare of my former Master.

"Once upon a time, I was taught the ways of the sword by a man, who was not a man; and who seemed to peer at me with the ageless semblance of mountains." That was all I ever divulged about my Master, for that is all I could say about a man, too unreal to have ever truly existed at all.

~Fin~

Omake:

The cool, smooth feel of those glass petals soothed me, as I sat alone in my humble home. I admired the faux Chrysanthemums beauty, remembering all-too-well, the man who had given me such a priceless treasure. I remembered those long midnight strands of pretty hair, and enigmatic indigo eyes. My beautiful Samurai, with a twisted scowl always present on his lips.

I idly wondered if he ever thought about me, but I always chalked it up to a, "No." We barely knew each other, and one bout of passion, could hardly count for an ever present longing. Sighing, I set the red and white flower upon the table, and closed my eyes. I let my memories take me away, losing myself in their antiqued edges.

"Hey, Japan!" The familiar voice of my old Italian friend, brought me back to reality. "Whatcha' got there?" He pointed to the glass Chrysanthemum.

"It is a Chrysanthemum, made of hand brown grass Itary." I replied, my "L's," turning into "R's," as I spoke English.

"Where'd ya' get it?" He questioned me again, seeming all-the-world like a troublesome child.

As vague smile possessed my lips when I recalled the blushing face of my favorite student, as he handed me the terribly wrapped gift. "A Samurai, who wielded a blade of infinity, and whose beauty rivaled that of a delicate Lotus blossom, gave it to me." I answered in Japanese, knowing full well he could not understand my foreign words.

E/N: So yeah, if the pairing was weird, blame my friend because she was the one who asked for it when I inquired about what pairing she wanted me to write, for her christmas gift. This was a joy, and a challenge to write, and I personally am proud of it, even if it ended bittersweet like almost all of my fan fictions do... I need to write more happy stuff. Oh, and I hope you all enjoyed the smut! ;P


End file.
